


A Collection of Short Stories

by hero_is_here



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Ghosts, Short Stories
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-17 17:31:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15466485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hero_is_here/pseuds/hero_is_here
Summary: some short stories and poems i've written. a lot will be prompts from @writing-prompt-s. trigger warnings, if needed, will be at the beginning of the story.





	1. Color of the Sky - Short Story

"What do you think of color?" said the astronomer to the artist.

"It's needed," Kyle replied. Kyle did portraits, and was in fact doing one of Doctor Riley Zhou, acclaimed astronomer and one of Kyle's childhood friends.

"Well, obviously. But what do you think of it, as an artist?" Riley asked. Kyle stopped painting and made a confused face.

"I don't think I've ever really thought of it," Kyle said, immediately continuing his painting. "Besides, why're you asking me questions about color. I thought I was the artist."

Riley rolled her eyes. "I think color has a certain beauty to it. All of space and the universe does. There are gorgeous purple galaxies and fantastical green dust clouds. Color ties everything together, especially in nature. I figured you would have an input, being an artist and all."

"That's just a stereotype," Kyle said with a grin and looked up at Riley. She still had a very serious face. He sighed. "I dunno. I try not to think too deeply into my art, or any art. Blue is blue, red is red, and colors are just colors. Gifted to us by God to keep our eyes busy while the Earth falls into shambles."

"See, now you're thinking!" Riley grinned. Kyle groaned in response.

"Is this a rouse to make me think about things again? I'm not in school anymore and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Aw, come on! You loved school," Riley said.

"Uh, you loved school. You're definitely remembering wrong," Kyle disagreed. "Just shut up so I can paint you."

Riley laughed. "Fine, fine," she said and stayed quiet. She had not talked to Kyle that much since their falling out in college. This portrait was more or less an excuse to talk to a friend she used to consider a brother.

The two chatted throughout the session, until Riley had to leave. Kyle gave her his mobile number, not even his work phone number. Riley smiled as she left his studio, the rekindling of an old friendship warming her heart.


	2. A Thank You to Wonder Woman - Poem

O goddess of comic book fame,

Your beauty glimmers from beyond the silver screen,

And your strength shines from colorful pages.

Empowering women and fighting fictional villains,

That is your legacy and honor.

 

O goddess of comic fame,

Your power radiates into me,

To make me brave and show me truth.

Men created you, but women made you,

And we live through you.

 

O goddess of comic book fame,

Thank you for your help.


	3. Obsession of Possession - Short Storry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: lots of cursing, implied shooting

“Bruh, I don’t think possessing people is good for you,” the ghostly figure of Alan said to his friend. The teen girl that Jared was possessing raised an eyebrow at Alan.

“Well, I think it’s fine, dude,” Jared said, crossing the girl’s arms. Alan grimaced.

“I dunno, you been doin’ it a lot recently. I’m worried about you,” Alan replied.

“Fuck off, man,” Jared said angrily. That made Alan suddenly angry as well.

“Dude, we’re dead! We can’t just go around fuckin’ up these ALIVE people’s lives!” Alan yelled and pushed Jared, right out of the teen girl’s body. Jared fell to the floor and the girl collapsed where she stood. “Holy shit,” Alan whispered and looked at his hands.

“Nice one, asshat,” Jared said, slowly standing up. He dusted off his bloody shirt, as if dust could even get on it.

“Shut up,” Alan said, staring at the girl’s body, trying to see if he had somehow killed her. She breathed shallowly. Alan let out a breath of relief, he couldn’t imagine having the ghost of a girl he accidentally murdered following him around for the rest of his eternity.

The teen girl opened her eyes slowly. The two dead seventeen-year-olds glanced at each other, then back at the girl. The girl sat up and rubbed her head, then looked directly at Alan and Jared. She scrambled away from them and stood up.

“Who are you?” She shouted at them and looked around. “And why am I still at school?”

The two looked at each. The girl saw the bullet holes in their bodies and looked back up at their faces. “Is this a fuckin’ prank?” She asked and laughed. She covered her face.

“Uh-“ Alan started.

“Shut up. Did Jack put you up to this? That asshole. Tell him I’m sorry I threw away his Yu-Gi-Oh cards, but he’s a literal fuckin’ senior. He’s almost eighteen and that game’s for little ass kids,” she rambled.

“Um. Jack didn’t put us up to this?” Alan said. “How can you see us?”

“Whaddaya mean? Of course I can see you, you’re-“ she interrupted herself and drug her hands over her face. “Do NOT fuckin’ tell me you dumbasses are ghosts.”

Jared snorted and Alan elbowed him.

“Oh, my God. I haven’t seen a ghost since I was like, thirteen,” she said. Jared and Alan raised an eyebrow at the same time. A downside of being together for the last twenty-five years is you sometimes end up doing things in sync.

“You… see ghosts?” Alan asked.

“Obviously she sees ghosts. Can’t you hear?” Jared said.

Alan clutched at his ear, that seemed to have been more than just grazed with a bullet. Jared snickered. “You are such an asshole. It’s not funny,” Alan said angrily.

The girl watched the two bicker like an old married couple. She scanned through her brain to think of why the two dudebros from the nineties were haunting her high school with bullet holes throughout their bodies. She’d never heard of anything like that happening, but something had happened to these guys. Her brain once again came to the main question, why the fuck was she here.

“Hi, hey, if you guys are done, why the fuck am I here?” she asked, very tired. It had to be late, as it was dark outside.

Alan and Jared stopped yelling at each other to look at her. “Ooh, yeah,” Jared said, and nodded. “I possessed you before you left on the bus.”

Alan glared at Jared. The girl looked at him as if he’d just called her a slur. “I’m so sorry,” Alan said. “He has a problem. I’m trying to help him, but he’s a dumbass and nothing can get into his thick head.”

The girl swallowed nervously. “Um, okay. If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to run away as fast as possible and hopefully not scream. Bye.”

She immediately escaped from the school and began walking home. The moon was large and round in the sky, and Robin was so tired of ghosts. Most of them just wanted her to help them cross to the other side, as if she was the fuckin’ Ghost Whisperer. ‘Do I look like Jennifer Love Hewitt” she’d yell at them. It’s not very nice, but it wasn’t like she got a guide to being a medium. She sighed in the moonlight.

She got home, her mom laid in bed asleep and her dad was probably at work. She headed up to her room and laid down, hoping her thing about seeing ghosts would disappear again.


	4. Bloody Remembrance - Short Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: small amount of cursing, blood, injuries

The second Kara woke up, she knew something was wrong.

First off, she was at the bottom of a pile of bodies. Kara tried to steady her breathing as she stared in the face of a dead man. She slowly climbed out and looked around.

Second, she was in what seemed like a deserted battlefield. Dead bodies in many colors lay all around the field. Blood was splattered everywhere, and not a breathing body around for miles. Except for Kara.

Third, there was definitely a sight issue. She slowly reached up to her right eye. She pulled her hand away to reveal blood. Had she lost her eye? What the hell happened?

Kara clutched her heart as she began to hyperventilate. Calm down, calm down, she told herself. She tried to remember absolutely anything. She vaguely remembered stabbing a man with a bayonet, and him spitting blood out of his mouth and looking up at her. He then grinned with sharp, red-stained teeth and yanked the bayonet out of his body.

She rubbed her eyes and felt excruciating pain in the eye she couldn’t see through.

“Okay, we have to get out of here,” she mumbled to herself. She swallowed and headed north. More people in similar clothes to hers, a deep forest green, laid that way. She stumbled that way, every step sending pain through her right leg. She glanced at it and saw blood, probably a bullet wound. She groaned as she realized how injured she was.

Despite not remembering much from before, something was for sure: she was not the same. Everything was more… she wasn’t sure how to describe it. She could smell the rotting bodies and blood as if she had her nose buried in a body. Her skin vaguely felt like it was on fire, not from wounds, but she could just feel more things. She could hear gunshots many miles away, and it terrified her. She continually stumbled north.

There had to be some kind of base for her army, if they weren’t all killed in this extreme battle.

Kara realized she was starving. Her stomach growled and she frowned. She had never felt hunger like this, she wasn’t even sure when the last time she ate was. She clutched at her stomach, but continued on. Soon enough, she began to smell smoke and hear voices. It was almost dark, and she began to feel better and better as time went on. Except, she was still starving.

She stumbled up the hill and saw a camp set up. There were tents and a fire. A few people walked around, but most sat solemnly around the fire. She was glad her army was safe, even if they had left her behind. She honestly couldn’t care less right now. They probably had warm food and first aid. She grinned and began down the hill towards the camp. A man at the fire took notice of her and nudged someone next to him. They both grabbed not guns, but wooden spears. The man stood up and a few others began to take notice and also grabbed things like spears and machetes.

Kara began to slow down, her grin disappearing. A memory appeared, of the man who she attacked tearing out her throat with his teeth. Seeing her camp, she slowly remembered the enemy, and that now she was that. The enemy. She touched her mouth and felt a few very sharp teeth. Vampires. Vampires were the enemy, and she’d obviously been turned. Slowly, she turned and saw dark figures behind her, some in the forest green army suits, some completely in black. She turned back towards her camp.

Kara assumed she wouldn’t be hungry again for a bit.


	5. Not Again - Short Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: death

Waking up in a morgue on Sunday morning was NOT on Ashley’s agenda for the weekend before she got married.

It was fucking freezing when she woke up and she was naked, both things Ashley was not super excited about. She hadn’t been cut into yet, thank God. Ashley sat up and her feet hit the freezing floor.

“Ugh, I hate when this happens,” she said to herself, looking around. A lab coat hung on a hook and she quickly grabbed it to cover up her body. She quickly looked in a mirror to look for any imperfections. No wounds, just freckles and frizzy orange hair. She supposed she had already healed, but that was fast.

She quietly walked out the swinging doors of the morgue to see a woman in a lab coat looking down at a clipboard, not paying attention to what was happening around her. Ashley slowly walked past the woman, who did not look up. She let out a quiet sigh of relief as she escaped the building. There was still a problem of getting to her best friend, Marie’s house without getting noticed. She looked around for any type of store, especially clothing store.

A general store popped out to her, right across from the morgue. Ashley looked for any cars and ran across the road and stepped inside the store. The teen cashier was not paying attention and Ashley quickly looked through the limited clothes. She ended up taking a pair of too small leggings and a gray shirt to the bathroom. She tore off the tags and put on the clothes.

“This will do, I guess,” she said to herself and headed out of the bathroom. She slowly made it out of the store and tried to inconspicuously walk down the sidewalk.

She didn’t pass too many on the street, it was only about eight in the morning. She finally made it to Marie’s apartment building and headed up to the third floor. She walked down the hall and anxiously knocked on the door. It cracked open and Ashley saw a brown eyes stare at her from the crack.

“Hey, Marie. It happened again,” Ashley said. The door closed and the sound of a chain being unhooked was heard. The dead tired face of Ashley’s best woman stared at her.

“What the hell happened?” Marie asked, moving from the door to let Ashley in.

“Think I got mugged and shot. It’s kinda blurry though. I was drunk off my ass,” Ashley said with a shrug. “What does it matter? I’m here now.”

“What does it matter? What does it MATTER, Ash?” Marie shouted and slammed the door. Ashley sighed and prepared herself for yet another lecture. “You have no idea how many lives you have! You could have died! What would Kate have said?”

“Kate wouldn’t’ve have said anything because she will never know,” Ashley said, crossing her arms.

“You still haven’t told her?” Marie asked, a disappointed look on her face. “You guys are literally getting married tomorrow.”

“I know, but marriage means I gotta stop being an idiot and getting myself killed. So, she won’t ever have to know,” Ashley said. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. What matters is, I need a new set of clothes. I stole these from the store across the morgue.”

Ashley giggled as she grabbed so clothes from the duffel bag she was using while staying at Marie’s. Marie shook her head as Ashley went to the bathroom to change. Ashley was stupid, and Kate would definitely find out, eventually.


	6. Bloody Noses and Trunk Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: cursing, blood, knives, child soldier ment, implied child abuse

When Ricky met the hot blonde in the tight red dress at the bar, he did not expect the night to end as it dead. He figured he get into her pants, not end up with a knife pointed at his throat. You see, Ricky was in what we call in the business, deep shit.

Well, Ricky has been a hitman was the last twenty years, he had to expect someone to try to kill him, at least once. But damned if it was a hot blonde that definitely did not look like Uma Thurman. But Ricky found himself laughing.

“What? No, ‘My name is Inigio Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die’?” Ricky said with a snort. The blonde’s face showed no change in emotion. Ricky sighed. “Is your name really even Sera?”

“Fuck, no,” the blonde said under her breath. She inched the knife closer to his neck, almost puncturing the skin. “Are you not gonna fight back?”

Ricky raised an eyebrow. “Fight back? You’ll just slit my throat,” he said, frowning.

The blonde scoffed. “I’ve heard so much about you, so this is honestly just disappointing.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, sweetheart,” Ricky said, rather condescendingly, as he slowly reached his hand to the nightstand. “I mean, if I had to, I suppose I’d do this.” He slammed the old telephone into the side of the blonde’s face. She fell off the bed and Ricky jumped up. He immediately slammed his elbow down on her, WWE-style. She swiped the knife at her, and he wrestled it out of her hand. The blonde punched him and he could taste blood in his mouth.

Ricky slammed his fist into her nose and she went right back down. He put his hands around her throat, not yet squeezing. “Nice right hook, kid. But I’m guessin’ you’re not here for revenge?” he asked as she tried too release herself from his grip.

“Fuck you!” she shouted, spitting in his face.

“You know, I’ve found that the final ‘fuck you’ lets people think they might could get an upper hand. It won’t,” he said, as he began to squeeze down on her throat. She gasped for air and started slamming her hands in his face, trying to get him to stop. “Tell me who you’re working for and I’ll stop.” He said it in such a calm way that it honestly frightened the blonde, but she kept the defiant face and tried to stick a finger in his eyes.

The blonde found that her attempts were useless and attempted to remove his fingers from around her throat. A thought came to her and she kicked Ricky in the balls. His hands almost immediately released her and she quickly used the bed to help herself up. She stomped on his face a few times with her stilettos, definitely causing some damage.

Ricky grabbed her ankle as it came down again and yanked her back to the floor. “You bitch,” he growled and slammed her head on the shitty carpeted hotel floor. It didn’t do much, except give the blonde a hell of a headache. Between each word, he slammed her head down. “Who are you working for?”

He stopped slamming the girl down and grabbed a gun from under his pillow. He pointed it at her. She laughed and moved her head until it was right again the barrel.

“Do it, you dickless bitch. They’ll just send more,” the blonde said with a grin. Ricky knocked her out with the butt of the pistol.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to torture it out of you, then,” he whispered, throwing her over his shoulder.

When the blonde woke up, it was daytime and her head was pounding. She almost forgot what was happening, until she looked up to see that damned hitman’s face. Twelve struggled, and realized her arms and legs were duct taped. She looked around to realize she was in the trunk of a car.

“Fuck,” Twelve whispered under her breath.

“Oh, you’re up,” Ricky said, smiling with glee. His face was bloody from their earlier fight, but it obviously did not phase him too much. “I’m gonna ask one more time. Who are you working for?”

Twelve thought about it. He was probably just gonna throw her around in the car. Nothing she hadn’t already been trained for. “Fuck you.”

“That’s what I thought,” Ricky said with a sigh. He grabbed a few knives, opened them up, and threw them in the trunk with Twelve. A couple thoughts went through her head at that moment, mostly curses and thinking about how fucked up she was gonna look after this. “Have fun!”

Ricky began to slam the door. Twelve tried to think as quickly as possible. The Lab will kill her if she told him, but he’ll kill her if she doesn’t. Lose-lose situation.

“Waitwaitwait,” Twelve said quickly before he slammed down the trunk. Ricky slowly opened it back up.

“You ready to talk?” he asked and she reluctantly nodded.

“It’s the higher ups in Rosebrant Lab,” she said. Ricky frowned.

He knew that Rosebrant was big in the hitman business. They train kids at young ages and send them out as soon as they are old enough. He sighed. “I don’t suppose your name is a number?”

Twelve looked down. What did that matter? “Just kill me quickly, because they’ll kill me slow.”

“You’re not gonna get killed, kid,” Ricky said. He reached behind Twelve and cut off the duct tape. She quickly grabbed one of the knives from the trunk, cut her leg restraints, and pointed it right at Ricky. “Disappoint, but not surprised. Kid, I wanna help you. Kill those bastard, huh?”

Twelve frowned. She’d endured a lot of shit from Rosebrant in her lifetime. Abuse and overworking. She barely had to think about it for a minute. “I’m in,” she said.

Ricky grinned and helped her out of the car. “So, what is your name?”

“Twelve. Well, technically I’m Twelve-C, but my friends call me Twelve,” she said.

“Well, kid. Ready to ruin those ugly ass bitches lives?”

Twelve grinned. “Hell, yes.”


	7. No Rest for the Wicked - Short Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: guns

The biggest mistake the Ghost Gang made was robbing The First Bank at eight in the morning on April 16.

See, Ramona Williams, a.k.a. Pyromaniac had been out of the business for almost ten years. She rarely even used her powers anymore. Being defeated by your town’s local hero every Saturday got boring after a few years, even after it was televised on national TV. That was why she moved to Blanket, MO. It was quiet, no one recognized her. Though, as long as it’s been, nowadays she figured only the weirdos would recognize her.

She met someone, fell in love, and adopted a kid. But Tilly was more than just an adopted kid. Tilly was her kid, to Ramona. She would protect her daughter with her life, even go as far as using her powers.

And on the morning of April 16, Ramona held Tilly’s hand and was making a deposit. She knew she should have gone through the ATM, but she didn’t realize how many people would be here at eight in the fucking morning.

Ramona sighed and looked around, and noticed a few out-of-place people. Three teens with light blue hair and bandanas around their necks. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and stepped out of line. She was not getting involved with this, and she wasn’t in the mood of showing off her fire powers in front of many people.

Tilly looked up at her mom with a questioning look. Ramona gave her a reassuring look and they headed to the door. Suddenly, a blue-haired teen stepped in front of her. Ramona mustered up the most dead-tired look on her face, and the teen grinned. She would have grabbed the kid by his collar and thrown him across the room, if not for her seven-year-old daughter in her hand.

The teen moved his jacket and revealed a gun to Ramona. She almost laughed.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” She said with a snort, but shoved Tilly behind her.

“It will,” the teen said, and nodded at the other teen boys. All three took out their guns and one of them shot at the ceiling, getting everyone’s attention. A few screams erupted and Ramona picked up her daughter. Tilly held on tight and whimpered quietly.

“Everyone hit the floor!” The teen in front of Ramona shouted. Ramona narrowed her eyes and the two had a quick stare-off, before she slowly went to the floor. She clutched Tilly tight in her arms.

Almost immediately it started heating up in the bank. Ramona stayed silent as the teens rounded up the patrons and bank workers. The tiled floor around Ramona was hot to the touch, but she tried not to burn Tilly. She ended up being near a young woman, no older than twenty-five, who was shaking.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ramona whispered to the girl.

“How-How do you know?” the woman asked.

“Trust me,” Ramona said with a reassuring smile. The woman raised an eyebrow, but did stop shaking. Ramona slowly placed Tilly on the ground, much to her dismay. Ramona put a finger to her lips, and Tilly sadly stopped reaching for her mom.

She slowly looked around, casing her situation. Two of the teens held a worker at gunpoint at the vault. Only one of them were actually paying attention to the hostages. Ramona took in a deep breath.

“Hey! Kid with the shitty hair!” Ramona yelled, getting the attention of the teen watching the hostages. “Come here.”

She looked back at the other two, who still did not pay attention. The teen made his way over.

“Whaddya want, lady?” He asked.

Ramona grabbed the sides of his head and slammed him into her knee, hard enough to knock him out. She glanced at the other bank robbers. They were still busy with the vault. Ramona silently laid the teen on the ground and took his gun. The other hostages looked at her with appalled faces.

“Stay here,” she whispered to Tilly, before creeping toward the vault. Tilly and the hostages watched her nervously. She slammed the butt of the gun into the teen behind his teammate and the bank worker. He fell to the ground hard, making a loud bang sound. The last teen turned around quickly and pointed the gun at Ramona. She slowly dropped the gun and raised her hands.

“Do you know who I am, kid?” Ramona asked. The teen’s face contorted with confusion.

“Hell no,” he said. Ramona could feel her hands heat up.

“My old friends used to call me Pyromaniac,” she said forming a fire whip and yanking the gun out of the teen’s hand. The whip dissipated and Ramona rushed him. Her hands gripped the teen’s shirt and lifted him against the wall. He looked terrified.

“Now, will someone please call the police?” Ramona said, staring the teen down.


End file.
